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I don't want to go back to the funny farm.

I don't want to be alive either.

Also, I do not want to talk about item two at all.

I'm so sick of talking about it I could just...do nothing.

It's like, I'm too depressed to have the energy to kill myself, but if I go back inside, I have to deal with fucking morons from hell. And this time I WILL deck the non-english speaking psychiatrist who says "No, you do not need to know why, just take the medicine".

I WILL deck the intern who says "I can't let you have coffee", when I know damn well they can.

I WILL stab the moronic tech who talks to me like I'm a retard with a fucking spork.

But out here, I'm not safe. My brain is lying to me again.

Waiting. For winter. For the cold.

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I WILL stab the moronic tech who talks to me like I'm a retard with a fucking spork.

But out here, I'm not safe. My brain is lying to me again.

Waiting. For winter. For the cold.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

Zon~

If I ever get married, I'm going to have sterling silver sporks at my reception.  No other silverware.  Just sporks.

If you off yourself, who will make us spit coffee into our keyboards?  It would be quite tragic.

Don't have anything really helpful to say.  Is there an alternative funny farm that isn't quite so miserable?  Do you have a friend you really trust that you could stay with for a while?

Is waiting for winter a good thing?  I love winter--Christmas and my birthday, the two most important days of the year!

Sending happy thoughts.

~CS

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Waiting for winter means the ability to freeze to death. Walk across that bridge and join Chuck.

I'm exanguinating. Robin cut too deep with the truth.

I'm worthless.

My former finacee's family read my LJ and I had to lock everything.

I wish I were dead.

Crying, crying, crying.

I'll never have a family and thats all I want.

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Zon,

Just hold on. It's not always this bad. Hospital sucks, but if it keeps you alive when you're not sure you can, then go (and take your runcible spoon with you). And while you're sporking people, if you run out of psych techs, by all means start in on former fiance's nasty, interfering, manipulative suckfest of a family.

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea

In a beautiful pea-green boat:

They took some honey, and plenty of money

Wrapped up in a five-pound note.

The Owl looked up to the stars above,

And sang to a small guitar,

"O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love,

What a beautiful Pussy you are,

You are,

You are!

What a beautiful Pussy you are!

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl,

How charmingly sweet you sing!

Oh! let us be married; too long we have tarried:

But what shall we do for a ring?"

They sailed away, for a year and a day,

To the land where the bong-tree grows;

And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood,

With a ring at the end of his nose,

His nose,

His nose,

With a ring at the end of his nose.

"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling

Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."

So they took it away, and were married next day

By the Turkey who lives on the hill.

They dined on mince and slices of quince,

Which they ate with a runcible spoon;

And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,

They danced by the light of the moon,

The moon,

The moon,

They danced by the light of the moon.

Edward Lear (1812-1888)

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Greeny,

The exact reference!  Thanks for finding it.  I had forgotten the name of the poem. It is one of the earliest things I remember from childhood, back when children were still taught nursery rhymes. I had a beautifully illustrated book and later a record with a small childrens phonograph that used steel needles on an adjustable angle head tone arm.

What a beautiful poem.

A.M.

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I was really looking forward to lounging in your studio Zon.  I'm afraid you can't off yourself until after I have fulfilled that wish.  You promised.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

This makes as much sense as Rora telling me I could not off myself until my suicide note was down to two words.

And it works.

Ok fine no knocking myself off until we all get to lounge around studio topless and eating grapes etc.

And as fine as "The Owl and the Pussycat" is....

"Don't want to talk about it...

I've done enough, I think.

Don't want to spend more money.

Don't want another drink.....

....I only want to

Dance without sleeping

Dance without fear

Dance without senses

No message I hear

Dance withoutt sleeping

Dance 'till I'm numb

Dance 'till I think

I can overcome."

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Ok fine no knocking myself off until we all get to lounge around studio topless and eating grapes etc.

Good enough. i'm wanting to hit you up to give my loom a once over.  you can't leave until you have served my needs. (insert evil laughter now).

anyway, i also responded over on the Aspie thread.  we've got 2 threads running now.....

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yeah, i agree gwen, so far appropriate responses to amazon's problem has been severely lacking. on that note, i have not too much to offer except, well, you can be damn sure most of us have been in a state pretty similar to where you are now, zon, and amazingly, miraculously, we're all still here talking to you. everyone's telling you you have to stick around to fulfill some promise you made to them, but you know that isn't true. you need to find a reason within yourself to stick around, and i think gwen got the gist of it. i'm sorry i don't know you that well yet, but from what i can tell, you're an artist, a creator, and a spanking good one too. i happen to think MI artists are the only ones worth anything, and to deprive the world of another of your creations would be dastardly. hopefully, you're not so low that you believe this awful feeling will never pass - as much as it seems permanent, eventually, somehow, in a little way, you WILL feel better. just stick around for a little while longer, okay? talk with us.

- hannah

p.s. you do have a family, silly - all your fellow crazies here at crazyboards ;)

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Yes, but much like my other wonderful, IRL, extended, insane, non-blood family, y'all don't live anywhere near Dayton. Unlike my immidiate, insane, evil blood realtives, who mostly live in the house with me. This situation alone would make anyone bats.

As for depriving the world of my art.

Peh. "Thw World" wants orange car washes in Central Park and shink wrapped urinals and Precious Moments and Blue Mountain Greetings and Thomas Kinkaid. Fuck the world. They're not worthy.

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Yes, but much like my other wonderful, IRL, extended, insane, non-blood family, y'all don't live anywhere near Dayton. Unlike my immidiate, insane, evil blood realtives, who mostly live in the house with me. This situation alone would make anyone bats.

As for depriving the world of my art.

Peh. "Thw World" wants orange car washes in Central Park and shink wrapped urinals and Precious Moments and Blue Mountain Greetings and Thomas Kinkaid. Fuck the world. They're not worthy.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

Get the fuck out of that house.  I spend 99% of my time indoors.  It's the time I spend by myself that keeps me sane.  When things are at their worst, it's the time I spend doing things outdoors, or even doing stupid mundane shit like shopping for groceries that help me keep perspective.

I've lived with relatives I hate.  That made me want to get something heavy and bash in their skulls.  Keep in mind that they are causing a lot of your pain.  Get the fuck away from them, as soon as you are able and for as long as you can.  Even a trip out of the house, to a place where you can be alone like a park or someplace peaceful like that can help you survive them.

It IS a tremendous effort to live through another day.  But it is also true that you mean something to the people on this board.  The reason we come here is to help ourselves believe our lives have meaning.  Your life has meaning to the people here that care about you, even if they are far away.  It WOULD be a blow to them if you died.  It would be a huge blow if you killed yourself.

You're an artist, ergo you are a very sensitive and emotional person.  I'm an artist as well, so I know of what I speak.  Artists, every last one of them, are unreplaceable.  Artists that are MI are the most original and valuable of all.  Art comes from insight, and those that have never experienced the genuine and horrifyingly real pain that comes with being emotionally raw simply cannot create anything worthwhile, except decoratively.

Also, ignore Kincaid.  He doesn't touch your life in any way that has a real effect.  Again, that was something I had to struggle with myself.  I've known people that have worked with him.  He's an asshole.  Pity the people that see him as a genius. 

It might be amusing for you to know a couple of things.  First, his 'empire of light' has bitten the BIG ONE since the economic crisis.  The reason he's sold out and put his crap on gift tins and puzzles is because the empire is desperate.  My mom owns two of his LE prints-- I used to be a picture framer and I got them for $20 a piece because they wound up being worthless.

Second, at his headquarters the 'original' shit on the walls started disappearing a few years back.  It was found being sold by the janitors at flea markets for $10 each.  Smart janitors.  They knew its true value.

Did you know that during his financial high times he hired 'students' to actually paint the highlights on his canvas prints?  He advertised them and sold them for more $ because they had actual dabs of his famous 'light' on them, but The Painter of Light never actually touched them except to add his lofty signature.

Laugh at him.  He is pathetic.

I don't know you.    Therefore I can't possibly be coddling you or trying to manipulate you into staying alive for any selfish reason, except maybe the fact that you have good taste.  I don't believe that the people that know you and have posted on this board have done so for those reasons, either.

Fox

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I don't think gwen was trying to get anyone all steamed or anything...this is super-hard for all of us, and a big thing is to remember that we're all sick in some way here. people like to dress it up and call it whatever they want, but we all have different diseases or whatever, and it totally affects our interactions and everything. i almost never reply to topics like this because i feel like i won't have anything worthwhile or helpful to say, but then i remember the times when i've needed help, and even just a little note saying "we're thinking of you" can make a difference. it doesn't necessarily matter what you say, just that you're there, you know? I don't know if that makes any sense, but i just don't want to see anyone get all po'ed over something like this. we're all too fucked up to turn on each other, guys! ;)

sorry if i offended anyone...

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I don't know if that makes any sense, but i just don't want to see anyone get all po'ed over something like this. we're all too fucked up to turn on each other, guys! ;)

sorry if i offended anyone...

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

I was a little po'ed, but that was more my problem than anything.  You didn't offend anyone, you just made me feel inadequate and I was a little harsh in my reply.  Sorry.  (Same to you gwen)

Back to the topic at hand, how are you doing Zon? 

As for depriving the world of my art.

Peh. "Thw World" wants orange car washes in Central Park and shink wrapped urinals and Precious Moments and Blue Mountain Greetings and Thomas Kinkaid. Fuck the world. They're not worthy.

You are indeed correct.  The state of art these days is quite depressing.  Being from SW Missouri, I am inundated with the Precious Moments and Thomas Kinkaide crap.  So depressing.  They are definately not worthy.

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How am I doing?

Worse. If that's possible.

I spent a whole weekend with all these happy SCA families, seeing what I'll never have, wondering if it means I'll have nothing.

I tried hard to be Cheerful Fun and Frolic Zon but kept breaking down.

Starting the Topa, for those of you who missed that bit, was an acknowledgement that I'm not going to be a mom. Probably not ever.

I had a cabin to myself. Normally this would be a luxury but I was lonely and spent a lot of time crying.

I've totally shut down. I'm not talking to anyone except you guys.

I'm trying to bail on psyche appointments and package my personal papers to send to a freind in Tallahassee. 

And wondering when it's going to get cold enough to freeze. Thinking like I'll park in Alpha and walk his steps and go where he went and die when he died.

Singing "Playboy Mommy" for the line about "When you run across that bridge all on your own little girl, they'll do you no harm cause they know your playboy mommy....when you tell them soldiers my name yeah, I got a few friends...."

No, not doin' good, but figting it. Cos I know my brain is lying to me.

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